


I don't know how far I can go.

by 71TeenIdles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Depressed Peter Parker, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Human Disaster Miles Morales, Human Disaster Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Identity Reveal, Miles Morales Needs a Hug, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Other, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has ADHD, Peter Parker has PTSD, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene, Post-Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Starks A+ parenting, Wade Wilson is a Good Bro, anti irondad?, because I said so, but he fucking failed at it, but mostly peter come on bitch lets get you some therapy, everyone needs help, peter parker killed beck, rebranding this story because i want it to be angsty, tony starks shitty mentorship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23026594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/71TeenIdles/pseuds/71TeenIdles
Summary: he turned his head up, tilting it so his masked eyes meet with the others. ‘Wait, the others?’ masked, the man’s eyes were masked.  Black with red outlines encasing familiar wide white lenses.He croaked out.‘spider-man?’Peter ran, after Beck. into a different dimension where he comes face to face with another spider-man. Miles.Peter faces his demons, what he did, and how to get help
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock & Wade Wilson, Miles Morales & Everyone, Miles Morales & Matt Murdock, Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Miles Morales & Wade Wilson, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 124





	1. Introduction.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore both miles and peter, so I thought, hey what betta why to make them meet than to reap the benefits of the aftermath from far from home eh?  
> have fun!

“SPIDER-MANS NAME IS PETER PARKER”

He was spinning, falling through harsh air and falling through buildings like a ghost

_ \--“Are you sure about this?” the man in blue asked.  _

_ Peter noded, starred down at his suited hands and frowned. “I have too, it’s too dangerous for me here, with him.”  _

_ “And your aunt?” his cape fluttered, the older man stayed stone face. “She’s better off without me, safer.”  _

_ Space broke as embers in ring form cut through the air, showing the new york on the other side, where he wouldn’t be known. Where he could be safe, where aunt may could be safe. He stepped left foot first in the portal. And with that Strange closed the ring.-- _

Wind whippes past his masked ears and he grasps for something to hold on to, a support beam, a light pole, hell the floors he keeps falling into. But he cant, he phases through everything. 

The world comes to a halt, Peter crashes on concrete floor in what looks like shadow-filled subway tunnels, the walls covered in bright paint. “Augh!” he cries out. 

He turns his head, eyes meeting red and white Nikes. With the strength of what felt like thor, he turned his head up, tilting it so his masked eyes meet with the others. ‘Wait, the others?’ masked, the man’s eyes were  _ -masked- _ . Black with red outlines encasing familiar white lenses. 

He croaked, rasping out. 

_ 'spider-man?’ _

  
  


__


	2. Everything says no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter glitches and can't bring himself to refuse miles's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter in two hours with no breaks because some eldritch god drug me up from the pits of hell now enjoy it.

A glass bridge, in broad daylight reflecting off mechanical glasses. This was it, the final stand. Cold heavy gunmetal pressed into the crevices on his palms. And the man on the floor, weak but eyes hid a smirk. Hands felt heavy and hatred, teeth felt sharp and wet. Covered in the remains of strung together code, masked an illusion. Hands took the man’s neck; hands pressed as hard as they could. 

Hands grasped the cold concrete. Mouths gasped in trapped air. 

* * *

_ Where am I, WHERE AM I? _ alarms, everywhere vibrations racked up his body and Peter shot up and stumbled back. Every thread in the etched machine suit dragged against his pores. It had never been fixed, and I _ had never been fixed!  _ Who was that why was he there, an inch or two taller than Peter and six feet away, his suit inverted the colors of the Stark one home glued onto his aching body. 

_ My mask!  _ Peter looked down, train tracks behind him, old nothing there but rust. Something else, paint, the person smelled like paint and rain. It was darker down here but illuminated with a few warm setup desk lights. Down here? It felt rumbler here. There was no doubt he was underground.  _ ‘No sound, why can't I hear anything?’  _

The tunnel sang in melodies, and Peter straightened his stance. No web-shooters, no problem. 

“Eter? “Ar-- y-u a p-t-r p-r-k-r?” 

[are you a peter parker?] it echoed

This person’s red-tipped glove seemed to fisheye towards him. 

“C-n y-u h-r- m-?”

[c4n y0u h3r3 m3?] it rang.

His mouth felt warm, felt lava hot. 

“-r- y-u ok-y?” 

[7 u 0k4y?] it stung

Why was he getting closer? Spider-mans’ arm was getting closer.

Peter felt his mouth open.

“Sp-d-r m-n?”

**_[SPIDER-MAN?]_ **

Peter’s mouth opened and let go. 

Peter shook his head as he came too, he felt light and happy, so much he could almost giggle just by looking at his arms, they were suited but still scratched, there were tears, and there was blood old and seeped through. Peter felt woozy, so he huffed out a laugh as he examined his gloves, red with the fingertips torn off. 

Peter blinked and blinked again, letting his hands fall to his sides. Where was he? 

_ “Subway, different dimension, Mysterio, other spider-man.” _ the keywords rang in his head. There was another spider-man here, and he shouldn’t worry because he isn't spider-man here. 

But where was he, he wondered as he panned across the spray-painted tunnel. Then he felt the wet on his mouth, lifting a finger and pulling it back, it was thickening fluorescent green secreting from his mouth. He’d only seen this a few times, but those times were enough. Peter pushed his head down and came face to face with Spider-man lying on the floor and clutching his forearm. 

_ \--This was going to be great! Peter thought rushing to the labs extravagant silver doors relishing in the way they parted like the sea for him. An object in hand, he smiled while walking into the room, forcing himself to make eye contact with the tired man hunched over mechanical bits and bobs. Deep eye bags and glasses tilted on his face stared back. His stubbled mouth twitched upwards, but his eyebrows stayed low and frowning. _

_ Peter placed an apple on the desk, and with boredom, the man questioned. Upon touching peters exited teeth, long canines piercing into flesh with a pop. The apple peter held to his mouth began to decay, in a sickening manner, the apple rotted to a brown corpse.  _

_ Peter smiled brighter. The man frowned.  _

_ Vials were added to his suit, somewhere down the ankle a small rectangle secured to the fabric with a simple A painted on it.  _

_ Mr.stark was disgusted with such a destructive power.-- _

Peter grabbed the tab and ripped it off, taking a part of the suit with it. But he didnt care, the suit was already tattered, and missing parts were common all over, mostly on his arms and legs, a few cursing his abdomen. 

Peter ripped it open with the dulling teeth, kneeled and poured the liquid into Spider-man’s wound, two fresh puncture marks already starting to close off. The anecdote seeped in and fizzed the wound, pale green foam puffing up from the marks. 

That’s when he saw his face, spider-man was dark-skinned with coily hair pressed flat by the mask still gripped in his left hand. Peter looked up, expecting to see glazed over eyes, or maybe closed eyelids. But he was met with deep brown eyes and a shy smile. 

Peter turned away and stood up. Spider-man just sat up and crossed his legs in. 

The veil of silence tainted the tunnel til peter closed his eyes and felt the rumble of another train. 

“So, uh. You’re a peter, a Spider-man, huh.” Spider-man laughed awkwardly, and Peter snuck a glance at the bashful boy. 

Was he peter? He was stupid is what he was, but that didnt matter, he wasn’t Peter here. He hated it, He hated the name peter parker, and he never wanted to be called it again. He hated being human.  _ -I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate me-  _ Peter shrugged and turned away. 

Then he heard Spider-man gasp when Peter looked down. He could see his body fade, blur with little color he stumbled around and tripped, expecting to kiss the square support beam in front of his face. Instead, he fell right through it. Still, on the concrete, Peter and Spider-man watched Peter's translucent body go right through. Out of panic, Peter squabbled and pushed himself up, now on the other side of the pillar. 

Peter breathed a sigh when he saw his suited feet cover the grey ground. He looked up at Spider-man’s face, avoiding his eyes. 

More silence. 

“Can I call you Ghost? Because that was definitely something I’ve seen in paranormal activity.” Spider-man said, fixing his mask onto his head. 

Somehow it was easier to look into the wide white lenses of Spider-man's mask then it was to look in his eyes. 

Peter looked up and down at him. He had what seemed to be a desaturated green, almost grey bomber jacket over the suit. His sleeves pulled up to the elbows… exposing the now healing bite. He also wore shorts over the suit, and his aforementioned red and white sneakers. 

“Sure,” Peter said, his voice was raspy, and it burned to talk. He shot out his tongue to lick his lips, unsurprised when he felt how peeled and chapped they were. The days leading up to his escape weren’t easy ones. 

“I’m miles, and you’re a Spider-man?” Spider-man, now Miles asked. 

Peter felt a jolt of alarm until he looked down at the rest of him, nothing but his torn and stained suit, the spider drone was broken and fell off, leaving a vague outline of where it should be, and he was sure the damage on his back had mutilated the spider there too. 

“I was,” he said because that was true, he wasn’t Spider-man anymore, Peter silently hoped to god he never would be, because he never wanted to be a superhero. “I’m not from here.” Peter continued, “I’m staying in this place now.” he looked away and felt his hair stick to his forehead. 

“You’ll glitch, like what just happened there, I mean- I haven’t seen it like that, but I’m sure that’s what it was,” Miles said, waving his pristine gloved hands in the air. “That might end up with you dying, it could be painful!” he finished. 

Peter’s blank eyes scaled down to his body again, though it didn’t feel like his. “I’m okay with that,” he said 

And Miles stayed silent. Til he shifted to stand up and put his hands in his pockets, “let me give you a place to stay, maybe for a night? Get cleaned up?” he offered, the compassion in his voice seemed to drone into peter's ears like static. 

So they walked, climbed and arrived in a neat little apartment, if Peter were honest to himself, he’d say he didn't remember the walk here. But with miles’ small talk, he shrugged and answered his questions about the trail. Peter felt like it's the least he could do. 

Peter was directed towards the bathroom, which had towels if he wanted to wash up a little. The already relaxing miles, with his mask off and shucking his jacket off, even offered some clothes. Peter just shrugged as Miles went into what seemed his room. 

Peter hadn’t asked about the lack of people here, but quick looks around could reveal everything about a place. Peter crushed the instinct to explore and walked into the bathroom. 

There was a mirror, of course there was. Peter sighed. Bent over the sink he turned on, Peter shoved his tattered gloved hands under the water and watched the grime mix with the drain. Peter brought his wet maybe clean hands to his face and dumped the cupped water on it, the excess dripping off into the sink with an echo so loud it split his brain. 

He pulled the drain closed and let the cold water slowly fill up the small sink as he stared off into the light blue walls. His hands pressed against the rim of the counter, burned. Shocks of pain sent to the back of Peter’s neck, and he whited out his vision as his hands slipped through the sink. He bit his tongue and held back tears as his body violently shook. In the next blink, his hands were back on the counter, and the sink was full. 

Peter felt a tear drop into the water. He shut off the water with more force than was needed and dunked his light brown hair into it, it splashed a bit, but it got all his hair wet. 

He blindly felt around the counter until he touched what had to be a soap bottle. He pushed the pump violently until the plastic split and plopped in the water, then dumped the hand soap into the water and onto his head. He took his already damp hands and got in there, pushing the soapy water around his hair until he got bored. 

He then shot out his right hand to pull a towel from its holding place. Peter lifted his head and watched the soapy water run back into the full sink. Then his eyes started to burn, he shut them but the soap had already infested so he just stood there, hunched over the sink, in a stranger’s house, with no one he knew around him, utterly and completely alone. 

When that time blurred into the rest of his day, he lifted his head to face himself in the mirror. That was peter? His hair was not as wet as it was, fluffing up into a frizz, from what he guessed was the towel dry. His eyes felt blank, and purple splotched around them. Just above a scar cut through his eyebrow and cut off halfway into his forehead. 

His nose was a little crooked, but there was a scar there too, trailing from the left side of his nose to his mid left cheek. He finished by looking at his mouth, dry, chapped lips, and another goddamned scar raising the right side of his upper lip a little, ending up to the beginning of his nostril. 

Peter startled by the light knock at the door. he saw the light in the crack of the door be covered by something, then Miles’s voice cut through the wood. “Clothes,” he said. Peter closed his eyes and opened the door using his foot so he swiftly pulled in the lump of clothing before shutting the door again. He bent down to get the first item, cringing at the pain in his upper back. A black hoodie, not bothering to talk of his suit he shrugged it on and left it unzipped, it was a bit large, ending at mid-thigh. Peter didn't care. So he bent down and picked the next one up, jeans? Peter guessed, his hazy eyes could get it, but Peter felt the woven material cross the pads of his fingertips. With lazy agility, he pulled those on too, looking at the crumpling of material at his ankles. 

With narrowed eyes, he faced his reflection again, as a whole picture. Younger him would have hated how he looked now. At least that was Peter's guess. He looked down instead and walked out of the bathroom, turning off the light and closing the door behind him. He faced the dark blue couch. There was a tiger blanket thrown over it and a cute looking pillow at the right side of it. Peter felt his eyes crinkle, and his lips twitch up. 

With no grace, he flopped onto the couch, softer and warmer than the things he previously slept on. He left the blanket under him and declared it a problem for later Peter. 

And for the first time in a while, he felt himself smile.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos. gimme  
> comments. hand them over. 
> 
> we shalst not forget I have a Tumblr (71teenidles)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the discord server I'm in for inspiring and pushing me too write!  
> if you liked it, let me know by leaving kudos and comments. that's all bye!


End file.
